


Burned Out

by could-be-calliope (206265)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, I just love azu so much you guys, RQG 160 - A Fixer Upper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/206265/pseuds/could-be-calliope
Summary: Earhart is quiet and still in her borrowed bed and Azu is left to hold vigil.Some thoughts on emotional labour.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Podcast Girls Week





	Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Podcast Girls Week 2020 on the prompt "Angst or humour." Unsurprisingly, I picked angst.
> 
> Title taken from the Dodie song of the same name, which works so incredibly well for this concept and is also a gorgeous song.

There are things you learn, growing up in a village where everyone is family.

One— treat the farmers with respect, for the work they do is to be treasured. Two— cherish the land that bears you, for the home it provides. And three— love your people, for they are all you have and all you are worth.

For Azu, loving has always been the easiest part.

She knows the church is so much more than that, and she would hardly disregard the history lessons and seminars on the doctrine of her Lady Aphrodite, but that’s all dressing, in Azu’s opinion. Those are the formalities she must navigate to reach the important part, which is the love. So she can bear her title of priestess with pride, and stride into a house of suffering with prayers on her lips and coins in her hands. These are the times when it feels good, and she clings to them and bundles them up behind her ribs, a constant warmth that pulses in time with her heart.

And then there are the times when it doesn’t. Azu has grown increasingly familiar with those.

The airship captain lays unnaturally still where Zolf has placed her, and Azu doesn’t need to examine her to know that she’s worryingly frail. It’s plain as day in the cleric’s uncharacteristic caution in carrying Earhart back to the hotel, in his scowl as he stomps out of the room. Azu sees the evidence of all this hurt in Earhart’s drawn face, and she aches. She knows, deep in her soul, that if she somehow managed not to care about this stranger, the ache would go away. But she is the only option.

Hamid can’t stand the sight of someone in distress long enough to be of any help, Zolf will choke down the instinct to care until all that escapes is gruff and inarticulate, and Cel’s tendency to turn into an octopus the moment emotions emerge is one Azu is beginning to envy. Azu cannot stop herself from loving anymore than she can fault her friends for leaving this task to her.

So she sinks into a chair at Earhart's waiting bedside and prays to her goddess, begging for the grief to be gentle with Earhart and for the frustration that curdles her love to wane. It feels unfair, somehow, to pair these two requests, but half-remembered rhetoric about pouring from empty cups surfaces in Azu’s mind. And so she humbly asks her Lady to temper the exhaustion weighing on her soul so she can return to doing what she is best at.

When Earhart wakes, flatly requesting alcohol in a voice that cracks under the strain, Azu is ready. She swallows the poisonous resentment before it can bubble past her lips, and smiles like this is all she's meant for.

**Author's Note:**

> This got started because I adore Azu, even if it's less obvious because she doesn't have the type of angst I usually write about. I was having a fun time thinking about Azu being lovely and looking after Earhart, and then I was having a considerably less fun time thinking about Azu feeling like she has an obligation to shoulder the emotional load of the party.


End file.
